


Mistaken

by angelsandbrowncoats



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Family, Fluff, Found Families, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, and that's that on that, and there will never be enough content of jack realizing he's basically jane's dad now, bc found family tropes kill me, for a chapter at least, the romance part is in the background, this is mostly about jack and jane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Five times Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was mistakenly referred to as Jane's father, and the one time he mistakenly wasn't (or: the agonizingly long process it takes for Jack to realize he's a dad).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I said it in the tags, but I'll say it again. Found family tropes kill me instantly. I will never ever ever be satisfied with the amount of content on the various found family relationships in Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, so I figured it was time I started making my own. I have the remaining chapters planned, but I have no (and I mean this as seriously as possible) clue when I'll get around to writing them. But I figured it was time to start, so start I have.
> 
> Also, I'm still in the process of getting a feel for the characterization of these characters, so I can only hope that I've written them well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack must deal with the fact that some girls from Jane's school have been mocking her for her lower-class background.

The first time it happened, Jack was utterly and completely unprepared.

 

Jack Robinson had planned a great deal of his life in meticulous detail. He had planned out his education from a young age, having his heart set on becoming a detective. He had planned out his career from an even younger one. His proposal to Rosie Sanderson had, of course, followed a precisely ordered list lined out months in advance. Naturally, there were some things wholly out of Jack’s control. Things like the war. He understood this and changed his plans accordingly.

 

The divorce had thrown a wrench in his perfectly planned life, although it was not nearly as great a wrench as one Miss Phryne Fisher. Yet even then, Jack responded with control, order, and planning. They balanced each other out, he reasoned. Where his plans brought some semblance of law to her chaos, she forced him out of his comfort zone, making him more adaptable and all the better a planner for it. 

 

But of all the things Jack had planned for or planned around, the one thing that had never truly entered his plans was children. When he proposed to Rosie, he had made a mental note to begin planning for children. It was simply how life worked. You met a girl, you married her, then you raised a family together. But before he had the chance to make any plans of the sort, he had been swept up in the war effort. All of his thoughts were diverted towards duty and survival. When he returned, children were the last thing on anyone’s mind. His marriage was collapsing around him, some obstinate woman with ungodly amounts of money was interfering in his crime scenes, and the murder in Melbourne seemed on the rise. Planning for children now seemed futile.

 

So, when Jack stopped by the Fisher residence one afternoon, thinking that perhaps tonight might be the ideal night to finally stop beating around the bush and ask Phryne out to dinner, he was wholly unprepared for the evening ahead. 

 

At precisely 2:32 in the afternoon, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson rang the doorbell on Miss Phryne Fisher’s house. At precisely 2:36 in the afternoon, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson decided that Mr. Butler was either out or in trouble. And at precisely 2:37 in the afternoon, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson peered through the glass door of the house’s kitchen to see none other than young Jane Ross crying her eyes out at the old table.

 

A sharp rap on the door was enough to get her attention, and she hurried to open the door for him. 

 

“Inspector Robinson?” she asked, and he could hear the way she was trying to conceal the tremor in her voice, “Miss Fisher isn’t here right now.”

 

“I gathered as much when no one answered the door,” he told her.

 

“Is there something you need?” she asked, looking around, “I could write down a message…?”

 

“Nothing that can’t wait,” he shook his head, “Miss Ross, is everything alright? It’s just… I saw you at the table, and…” he trailed off, feeling out of place. He had no experience dealing with the woes of young girls, and he wasn’t sure in what light Jane saw him. They weren’t exactly close, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else around at that moment.

 

Jane, for her part, tensed, “I - it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

 

“I am a detective, Miss Ross,” Jack told her, “I have extensive training on how to tell when someone is lying to me.”

 

That wasn’t exactly true. He had extensive  _ experience _ , perhaps. But regardless, it didn’t take an expert to know the girl wasn’t telling the truth.

 

Jane bit her lip, staring determinedly at her shoes, which she was currently scuffing against the floor, “I swear, it’s not important.”

 

“Well, it seems important to you,” he tried. That sounded like something Phryne would say, didn’t it?

 

“It’s just…” Jane sighed, “One of the girls at school. A few of them are having tea today, at that fancy new place - Pear Blossom’s?”

 

“Oh? Did Miss Fisher say you couldn’t go?” That didn’t seem like Phryne at all. Usually she was all about  _ networking _ through social events such as afternoon tea.

 

Jane shook her head, “She didn’t say anything at all. I’m not invited.”

 

Jack’s eyebrows cranked upwards at the admission, “What do you mean?”

 

“I overheard them planning it, you see, and I didn’t even say anything! I didn’t ask to be invited or do anything at all! Then Ethel - she’s the ringleader of their little group - looked right over at me and said, ‘Don’t look so interested, it’s not as if you’re invited,’” Jane crossed her arms, glaring up at Jack, eyes shining with what he now thought might be angry tears. 

 

“Did,” and, wow, was this well and truly out of his comfort zone, “Did they say why? I can’t speak for girls, but I knew more than a few boys that would do something similar just to be nasty. In cases such as those, there’s nothing you can do but ignore them and know you’re the better for it.”

 

Jane looked down again, shoulders sagging, “Well, they did say. Ethel’s best friend, Lillian? She said, ‘Well, of course not! It’s not as if they’d let us bring garbage off the street into a respectable establishment like that,’ and then she turned to me and told me that no matter how much education I got, and no matter how many pretty dresses ‘were wasted on me,’ I’d still just be street trash. That I’d never truly be a respectable young woman.”

 

Jack felt a brief desire to show those girls a thing or two about what respectable people can do, before he realized how very unprofessional that was. Detective Inspectors simply didn’t threaten young girls, no matter how much more vicious they were than the majority of the criminals filling up Melbourne’s prisons. Taking a deep breath, he knelt down to be on eye level with the poor girl, trying to think of something encouraging to say. What would Phryne say? For that matter, what would Mr. Butler say? Or those red-raggers she employed as cabbies, Cec and Bert? 

 

“They’ve gotten into your head, have they?” he began. When Jane nodded, sniffling slightly against the tears, he continued, “Well, let’s think about this logically. Do you think - what were their names? Ethel and Lillian? - Do you think Ethel and Lillian know better than Miss Fisher?”

 

“Of course not!” Jane protested, “Miss Fisher is only the best detective in - well…” she glanced at him, looking rather guilty. He gave her a reassuring smile; if there was one person he was willing to forfeit the title of ‘best detective’ for, it would be Miss Fisher. Not that he agreed of course - what sort of Detective Inspector would he be if he conceded his position that easily? No, his methods were definitely better, but she was worthy competition indeed. 

 

“And clearly Miss Fisher thinks it worth her while to pay for your education,” he reasoned, “Don’t forget that she has some rather disreputable roots herself. And look how she turned out,” he paused to think about that, “Actually, I’m not sure she’s  _ exactly _ the role model I would choose, but you get my point.”

 

Jane gave him a weak smile, but she didn’t look fully reassured. 

 

“Alright,” he said, thinking of a new plan on the spot, “Here’s what we’ll do: you go dry your eyes, put on your nicest outfit, and I’ll take you out for tea myself. Detective Inspector’s got to count for something, you know. See how they like that, hmm? We’ll make a real outing out of it, and you can show them that you’ve got the respect of a figure of authority while they were out playing at tea parties. How’s that for respectable?”

 

“You really think so?” Jane asked, doubtful.

 

“Frankly, I have no idea, but it’s worth a shot. Besides, I’ll buy you ice cream on the way back, how’s that?”

 

At that, Jane brightened, “Alright! Give me… 15 minutes.”

 

With that, she dashed off to get ready, and Jack entertained himself by filching some of Phryne’s biscuits. Who was going to catch him? The police? He was the police. Well, there was always Mr. Butler, but for once that ever-so -observant man had let the cookie jar out of his sight. 

 

“Alright, all ready!” Jane announced from the hallway, and Jack emerged from the kitchen to see her descending the stairs in a dress that probably was worth a good three month’s wages for him. He knew little of fashion, didn’t have the time to keep up with it, but even he could recognize quality when it was on such a scale.

 

“One of Miss Fisher’s choosing, or one of yours?” he asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

 

“Miss Fisher, although I suggested the color and a few of the accessories,” Jane informed him, practically glowing with pride.

 

“Well, I must say you have fine taste.”

 

“Finer than Ethel Bradford, at any rate,” Jane snorted, and Jack was glad to see her fighting spirit had replaced the defeated one from earlier. 

 

“I’m certain of it,” Jack told her as they exited the house.

 

The ride to the tea room was unremarkable, for Jack at any rate.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car going so slow,” Jane remarked about halfway to their destination. 

 

“That’s because you’ve never been in a car with someone who respects safety precautions before,” Jack replied.

 

When they arrived at their destination, Jack made a show of opening Jane’s door and offering her his arm. If they were going to show up a group of snobbish young ladies, a certain amount of flair was necessary. Or perhaps Miss Fisher was rubbing off on him more than he cared to admit. 

 

“A table for two, madam,” he requested of the hostess. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jane scanning the room, eyes landing on a group of four girls seated by the window on the west side. 

 

He was paying such close attention to her, wanting to make sure his idea hadn’t backfired and upset her even more, that he nearly missed the comment the hostess sent his way.

 

“Oh, isn’t that just adorable,” she smiled at them, “There’s nothing more precious than a father spoiling his daughter.”

 

In that moment, time seemed to freeze for Jack. He blinked at the hostess, processing her words.

 

“Oh, I’m not,” well, that _would_ be the easiest way to explain it, he realized, and after all, he and Phryne... 

 

“I’m not going to argue with that,” he recovered. Jane hadn’t paid the comment any mind at all, attention fully fixed on the girls from her school, so at least he had dodged an awkward conversation about exactly what role he played in her life these days. Was he just a DI? Her caretaker’s unofficial, sometimes suitor? The man who broke her out of the tomb they’d been locked in after she’d been kidnapped by a cultist? She couldn’t actually see him as a father figure, could she?

 

But it was no matter, at least not then, not when they’d been seated near the center of the tea room, in full view of the other girls. Jack dutifully remembered to pull out her chair for her, then took her advice on what the best tea to order might be. 

 

“Well?” he asked her conspiratorially over a scone, “Is it working?”

 

She nodded, a mischievous smile on her face, “They’re greener than the cucumbers on these sandwiches.”

 

He laughed at that description, “You certainly have a way with words, Miss Ross.”

 

“Do you think so?” she asked, “I was actually thinking how nice it would be to be a writer.”

 

“Poems, plays, or prose?” he inquired, “Or were you thinking something a bit more modern, like a magazine columnist?”

 

“Oh, I haven’t decided yet,” she replied, “I’ve been thinking about writing a newsletter for the house, just for fun. You know, a section on whatever Miss Williams is fixing that week, a recipe from Mr. Butler… I think Cec and Bert could add some colorful opinion pieces, don’t you?”

 

Jack opened his mouth to tell her exactly what color he expected from the two of them, only to see that glint of mischief in her eyes as well.

 

“I think you know very well what I think about that, Miss,” he faked a stern voice. Jane giggled, before returning to the seriousness of the question of what to write.

 

“I’m quite taken with poetry, though. It’s much harder than prose, but when you get the words  _ just _ right…”

 

“Have you read Shakespeare’s sonnets yet?” Jack asked, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I have something of a collection. You are more than welcome to borrow it if you’d like.”

 

“Thank you,” she nodded, “I’ve read a few, and I quite like them. Although, my poems aren’t usually sonnets.”

 

“I will await my signed copy of original works from famous poet Jane Ross, then,” he said.

 

“Well, I’m not entirely decided,” she cautioned, “I also like the idea of writing down all the excitement from Miss Fisher’s cases.”

 

“Good heavens, she doesn’t tell you all the details of those, does she?”

 

“No,” Jane gave a long-suffering sigh, “But she’s promised to tell me once I’m sixteen. Apparently, I’m not ‘old enough’ to hear about them yet.”

 

“Well, I’m glad to hear she has a little sense about that,” Jack said, “Although, I still think sixteen is fairly young.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jane rolled her eyes, “Maybe it seems young when you’re  _ old _ .”

 

Jack gave a mock gasp, “ _ Old? _ Me? You wound me, Miss Ross.”

 

“Oh dear,” she said, “It’s not a major focus in my education, but I’m fairly certain attacking a police officer is a crime. Am I going to be arrested?”

 

“I suppose I will let the offense slide this time, Miss. But don’t let this become a habit. Repeat offenders tend to get longer sentences, you know.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t want that,” she smiled, “But at the risk of committing yet another, I feel I should take this opportunity to remind you that you promised me some ice cream earlier. I would hate for Melbourne’s Detective Inspector to gain a reputation for breaking his promises.”

 

“My goodness, Miss Ross. First assaulting an officer, and now blackmailing one? You certainly are Miss Fisher’s ward, I think.”

 

“Why, thank you,” she grinned, folding her hands primly on the table in front of her.

 

“You drive a hard bargain, but I suppose I  _ did _ promise…” he pretended to ponder it, “Oh, alright then. After you.”

 

After departing the tea room, they found their way to a bench, each holding a cone towering with scoops of ice cream that Jack had bought from a vendor.

 

“So, are you feeling better?” he dared to ask, after a time. 

 

“Loads,” Jane nodded, “I mean, who wouldn’t be? I showed up those girls in every possible way, and now I’ve got ice cream.”

 

“Every possible way?”

 

“Well, yeah,” she held up the fingers on her free hand, “Better dress, better tea selection, better company…”

 

“I’m honored,” he told her honestly, “And I’m glad I could do something to help.”

 

When the afternoon turned into evening, they returned to the Fisher household, and as they stopped at the door, Jane turned and threw her arms around him. Taken aback, Jack hesitantly patted her on the back.

 

“Thanks, Inspector,” she said, “I was just planning on staying in and being miserable, so…”

 

“Think nothing of it, Miss Ross,” he told her. He was trying to think of something else to say when the door was thrown open to reveal Phryne Fisher herself, frantic yet as radiant as ever.

 

“Jane! Thank goodness you’re alright, we were about to phone the pol - Oh, Jack, hello. Did you know, I was just about to call you.”

 

Jack let out a groan, “You have got to be kidding. Did neither of us really think to leave a note?”

 

Jane snorted, “I guess not.”

 

“You mean - you - the two of you?” Phryne looked between them, trying to piece together what had happened.

 

“I stopped by earlier,” Jack explained, “Jane was home alone and looking less than happy, so I offered to take her out for tea and ice cream.”

 

“Oh?” Phryne asked, and Jack must have been imagining it but the appreciative gleam in her eye seemed… different than usual. 

 

“Well, I suppose I can forgive the oversight of a note, in that case. Tea and ice cream is enough to drive anyone to madness,” she said lightly, “Oh, but where are my manners. Come in, come in. Jane, run upstairs and get yourself ready for dinner. I don’t suppose I could tempt you to join us, could I, Jack?”

 

“Actually, Phryne, dinner sounds lovely,” he answered, failing to mention that was what had brought him there that afternoon in the first place.

 

“Oh, wonderful! Mr. Butler? Mr. Butler, take the inspector’s hat and coat, and set another place at the table, please!”

 

“At once, Miss,” Mr. Butler’s voice issued from the kitchen, “And kindly tell the inspector that if he truly wishes to steal biscuits from me, he should be less precise in returning the jar to its original place. He is the only one who gets it right, and it gives him away every time.”

 

Phryne turned back to him with an amused face as he shed his coat.

 

“My, my,” she said quietly, taking it from him and running a finger over his arm so lightly it could be accidental, “A police officer caught thieving? I wonder… who punishes the police when they commit crimes?”

 

“I think you’ve been spending too much time around the communists, Miss Fisher,” he replied, ignoring the blush he felt growing at her words.

 

“I doubt it,” she smirked, “I don’t think my answer to that question has ever crossed their minds.”

 

“I sincerely hope not,” he said, and he was certain he had never meant anything more sincerely ever in his life. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack agrees to look after a sick Jane, alongside Cec and Bert, while Phryne & the rest are out of the country on business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a bit more of a wait than I was expecting... Like I said, I've thought a lot about this series over the last semester, and I have no intention of abandoning it. And like the piece I posted last night (well, this morning...), this one was partially written over half a year ago, and partially written today, so I hope it's not too disjointed. I can't promise when the next part will be, but it will come eventually (hopefully sooner rather than later, but...) 
> 
> Anyways, here's the next part! Five more to go.

The second time it happened, Jack was just as unprepared as the first. The case he and Phryne were working together had taken up all of his time, and he had not yet had time to consider who Jane was to him - or more importantly, who he was to Jane. Ever since the tea incident, Phryne had invited him along on a number of excursions with Jane, and he was beginning to suspect  _ she _ , at least, entertained the idea that Jack could be something like a step-father to her.

 

Regardless, he was still just as unsure as he was about where he stood to  _ Jane _ when he received a call of a fairly alarming nature.

 

He was getting ready for bed when the phone rang, and he hurried to answer it.

 

“Inspector Robinson?” Of all the voices he’d expected to hear on the other end of a phone call with the hour nearing midnight, Prudence Stanley’s had to be near the bottom of the list.

 

“I am he, Mrs. Stanley,” Jack replied, “How may I help you?”

 

“I hope you understand,” she began, “I wouldn’t be calling you at this time unless it was  _ absolutely  _ necessary.”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Stanley. Now - ”

 

“You see, an emergency has arisen. As you know, my niece is currently in Italy with her companion, Miss Williams, and their butler. I myself am leaving tomorrow for Sydney on urgent business. What I have to tell you, however, concerns poor Jane.”

 

“Jane? Is she alright?” Jack stood up, already searching for a suit.

 

“She was supposed to be staying at her school for the entire duration we would be gone. Unfortunately, she arrived home late tonight, having been sent home sick.”

 

“Sick?”

 

“She has fallen terribly ill, and they are afraid of the illness spreading throughout the entire school. The doctors say she will be alright, but that she ought to rest for at least a week. This would be no concern, except…”

 

“Except who will look after her,” Jack completed her thought.

 

“Those two incorrigible young men of Phryne’s are here, of course, but I cannot help but wish for… a more  _ respectable _ eye to oversee her care, as much as you would be able, of course.”

 

“I can understand how Mr. Johnson and Mr. Yates might not inspire your full confidence,” he told her, the hint of a smile on his face, “Think nothing of it, Mrs. Stanley. I will ensure that Jane is properly looked after.”

 

“Thank you, Inspector,” Prudence replied, “We’ve decided to set up at Wardlow, as Jane stays there more frequently than my home and will hopefully be more comfortable. And I apologize again for disturbing your night.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

The line went silent, and Jack sighed, sitting back down. He would check in on Jane in the morning before work, and hopefully catch Prudence before she left for her train. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

The illness was about as bad as Jack expected: enough to cause everyone a world of trouble but not enough to pose a long-term risk. Jane would be miserable, of course, but there was no fear for her recovery. The doctor was right, of course, she just needed some rest. 

 

Jack had met Mrs. Stanley on her way out the door, having only a few moments to ask, “How is she?” before Prudence had gone. 

 

When he got to Jane's room, she was sleeping. Someone - probably Mrs. Stanley - had tucked her in, leaving a cup of water and a small toy bear on her bedside table. But Jack suspected it was one of the cabbies who'd left the card that seemed to depict a roughly sketched girl with braids punching a man labeled ‘fever’ in the face while another man labeled ‘cough’ lay clutching his stomach on the ground behind her. 

 

He crossed to the windows to close the curtains when Jane stirred. 

 

“Inspector?”

 

“Hello, Jane,” he greeted, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Not great,” she mumbled, “Why are you here? Is everything okay?”

 

“Your aunt asked me to check in on you. I don't think she trusts Mr. Johnson and Mr. Yates. I suspect that card only confirmed her fears,” he nodded towards the sketch. 

 

Jane giggled, “They mean well.”

 

“I'm sure they do.”

 

“Will you be staying?” Jane asked. 

 

“I do have to go to work, I'm afraid,” Jack said, “But I could stop by this evening, if you'd like?”

 

He wasn't sure if she would, if he were being honest with himself. 

 

“Yes, please,” she replied, “And if it's not too much trouble… you could tell me a story? I miss reading a story before bed with my mother, and it might help me sleep.”

 

She bit her lip, looking as if she feared he'd dismiss her completely. 

 

“Of course,” he said instead, “I'll have to think of a good one while I'm at work.”

 

“Thank you, Inspector,” she smiled at him, “Oh, and if you see Cec or Bert, could you ask them to bring me some soup? Aunt Prudence forbade me from getting out of bed, but I haven't eaten anything since I collapsed at dinner yesterday…”

 

“I'll make sure to let them know,” Jack told her, “Now make sure you do as the doctor ordered and get some rest, okay?”

 

He ran into Mr. Yates in the hallway and passed on Jane's request.

 

“Oh crap,” he said, “We didn't even think about that. I'll tell Bert to heat something up. But, Inspector - Miss Fisher doesn't have any medicine that's suitable for children, and Mrs. Stanley told us no alcohol. We don't have enough money to buy some, even if Miss Fisher would pay us back later. Could you…?”

 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Jack nodded when he realized what the man meant, “I'll pick some up on my way back from work. I've promised Jane I'd tell her a bedtime story tonight.”

 

“Thanks,” Yates said, “You know, for a capitalist menace, you're a decent man, Inspector.”

 

“Don't let your friends hear you say that,” Jack snorted, before heading off to work. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Though it may surprise the less observant, Jack loved shopping. Not in the way Rosie did, with copious window shopping and longing gazes after items she was too practical to buy. Nor in the way Phryne did, trying out anything that struck her fancy and seeking out the unknown and then buying it all. Certainly not in the way his father had, accompanied by friends and cigars. No, Jack loved shopping because shopping came with lists. Now, Jack didn't need or want pure organization in his life - despite what he occasionally said - but his job was unpredictable enough, more so now, with a lady detective hovering around his every crime scene. Shopping, then, was a reprieve from the chaos and mystery and - with Phryne involved - glamour that composed the rest of his life. 

 

When Jack went shopping, he adhered strictly to his lists. He would go over them in his mind as he went, both to ensure he remembered everything and to avoid the temptation of that which was not on said lists. So, here he was, in line at a general store, examining his list once more:

 

Medicine for Jane. This had been the easiest to remember, as it was the reason he was shopping today, rather than on Saturday, like usual. He had picked up something that should be safe enough for the girl to satisfy even the toughest worrier - although whether that title belonged to himself or Mrs. Stanley, he could not say. 

 

A fresh loaf of bread. He got this every other week, although with the frequency of his dinners at Wardlow - Phryne’s current trip abroad notwithstanding - this was a habit he might soon have to break. He'd been throwing out more moldy bread than he cared to, lately. 

 

New pen ink. Phryne might have helped him solve some cases faster, but she certainly didn’t speed up the paperwork. The last time Jack had filled his favorite fountain pen, he had noted the dwindling supply. While the police budget did indeed cover supplies such as ink refills, Jack knew perfectly well that they spared no thought for the quality, only the cheapness, of the ink. And while this might be passable for the average pen, Jack kept a personal supply of high-quality ink for his favorite pen in his office.

 

Something for dinner tonight. Cold ham would have to do, alongside a baked potato. Jack wasn’t much of a cook, but he had learned enough to survive on. Even if he had been better, he’d never have had the time to make anything too fancy.

 

A new bar of -

 

Jack’s train of thought broke as he reached out to pick up the thin book.

 

_ Daughters of Diana Collection: Anonymous Poems from Students at the Lady Diana Tilcott Finishing School _

 

He shook his head, staring at the book in his hand. He had never, that he could recall, deviated from his list. But Jane liked poetry,  _ and _ she could probably relate to some of these authors more than the classics…

 

In a completely uncharacteristic moment of impulsivity, Jack put the book in his basket.

 

...A new bar of soap. Plain, because he didn’t have the effort to learn the different kinds, and because he didn’t have the money to buy them anyways. Miss Fisher had threatened to buy him some of them for Christmas, lavender-sage, if he recalled, but he figured he’d deal with that when - and if - it happened.

 

Loose leaf tea. English Breakfast, because it helped him wake up in the mornings, and because it was comparatively well priced. He typically drank two cups a day, from his home supply anyway; one in the morning, perhaps with a slice of buttered bread if he was feeling hungry enough, and one when he got home from work, to give him enough energy to keep whatever house he had to. 

 

And - to his deep surprise - 

 

A book of poetry. A gift for poor Jane, who was probably bored out of her mind having to lie in bed all day. And if she didn’t have something to do, who knew what those cabbies might rope her into. Or, perhaps more likely, what she might rope  _ them _ into. 

 

The lady smiled at him as she rang up his items, a slightly exaggerated frown crossing her face as she picked up the medicine.

 

“Sick child?” she asked. Jack nodded, without really thinking, “Jane was sent home yesterday, to keep the illness away from her classmates. She’s doing alright, if a bit bored.”

 

“Poor girl,” she nodded sympathetically, picking up the book of poetry, “This for her?”

 

Jack nodded, “Hopefully it will entertain her for a bit.”

 

“That’s so thoughtful of you!” she smiled again, carefully rearranging the items in a bag for Jack and handing it to him, “I hope your daughter gets well soon!”

 

“Oh,” was all Jack managed to say, before he had to step aside for the next customer. He stopped just outside the shop, feeling lost. He hadn’t at all meant to make anyone think he was Jane’s father, but in retrospect he supposed he could understand… Still, he  _ needed  _ to get this sorted out as soon as possible.

 

Well, not  _ quite _ as soon as possible, he reasoned - it wouldn’t do to upset Jane with such a conversation while she was sick. 

 

He resolved to bring it up as soon as was convenient, once Jane was better.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Thank you!” Jane exclaimed, or tried to, before she was interrupted by a coughing fit. When it had run its course, she looked back up at him with a smile, “You remembered I like poetry?”

 

“Of course,” Jack said, although privately he supposed it was a reasonable question. If Jane  _ didn’t _ see him as anything more than a police inspector, it made plenty of sense to assume he wouldn’t have the kind of time to be remembering her interests. 

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, to change the subject. She actually thought before replying, “A bit better. I still feel miserable, but… not quite as much?”

 

“That’s good,” Jack nodded and gestured at the soup he had brought up with the medicine and book, “Don’t forget to keep eating.”

 

Jane rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry, Cec hasn’t stopped asking me if I need more ever since you reminded him that I needed to eat this morning.”

 

“Ah,” he said, “That’s - that’s good.”

 

Despite his history with the communists, Jack had to admit that these two, at least, were themselves decent men.

 

“Now, I believe you promised me a story?”

 

“Ah, yes,” he hesitantly sat in the chair by her bed, “Yes I did.”

 

“I hope it’s a good one,” she grinned impertinently at him.

 

“I hope so, too,” he smiled right back, feeling a bit more at ease, “Alright, so… once upon a time, there was a princess who was stuck in a tower, far away from her kingdom. Now this princess had passed her Princess Lessons with flying colors, and -”

 

“Princess Lessons?” Jane asked with an eyebrow raised.

 

“Save your questions for the end, if you’re still awake, that is,” Jack replied, mock-seriously, “Anyway, yes. Since she had passed her Princess Lessons, she knew exactly what she was supposed to do in this situation. Tower prisons are one of the first things a princess needs to learn about, you know. So, she knew she was supposed to wait around until a prince rescued her, and the one who did would be worthy of her love. But this princess, for all she’d excelled in her studies, thought that waiting around until a prince showed up sounded awfully boring…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for everyone who was waiting, I hope it was worth at least a little of the wait. And I hope the next wait will be shorter!
> 
> (Perhaps it also helps that I finally got my hands on the series again, since I haven't been able to watch it since they took it off netflix back in August or whenever).
> 
> Anyways, Happy New Year & may the new decade bring more time, motivation, and inspiration to write!

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't do enough in this fandom. Hell, I don't even know anyone in it. Anyways, I'd love to hear from anyone who read this! And while perhaps not within the next two weeks (finals :/), I'm always ready to talk about the family dynamics in MFMM


End file.
